Hunted Hiruma
by Botansama3000
Summary: Hiruma and Mamori are stuck in the Devil Bat’s room when Hiruma’s network of slaves get a bit unsettled.


Disclaimer: I don't own Eyeshield 21. If I did, Hiruma would be tamer—which would be a pity. Kekeke. Eyeshield 21 rocks! I hope you guys enjoy my story!

Hunted

Mamori's disciplinary committee meeting had stretched out later than planned, and she was very thankful when Matsuda-san had finally told them to go home. She sighed as she glanced up at the darkening sky, her feet set towards the football lockers..

She was very tired, and glad that Sena and the others had long since gone home from the grueling practice she had been forced not to watch over. Over the lunch hour, however, she had wrung a promise from the devious quarterback to make the team retire before sundown because of next week's major exams. They were going to make up for this by coming two hours earlier for the morning practice the week after, but she could see the boys were very grateful for the present respite, at least.

Unfortunately, she only just remembered she had left the notes on the Devil Bats' next opponent in her locker. She had groaned inwardly, remembering she had to be ready with the edited version tomorrow. Knowing Hiruma, the control tower from hell would be demanding and would crow over her for showing up without them… and she was too proud for that.

"Mou, how could I be so forgetful," she thought as she tiredly opened the football team's room with her key, not noticing the stealthy footsteps on the field as the lock clicked on the door behind her.

She was about to turn on the lights when she saw a pair of glittering eyes near the one window. She blinked "Wha—" before she could say anything more, Hiruma suddenly appeared before her, a finger to his lips in silent warning and one hand holding onto a very large AK-47. In the dimming light, he looked more dangerous than ever as he shook his head at her hand on the switch.

"Fucking manager, he said in a raspy whisper, "not those lights. Too fucking bright." Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he flicked it on. She gasped as she saw his black eye and the cuts on his face. Worse, she saw a rather large gash on his stomach. It seemed he was going to bandage it with the torn bottom of his once-white undershirt, which lay on the nearby table. No, she thought, these could not have been from the practice, especially when the smell of gunpowder seemed to be stronger around him than usual.

"Hiruma—kun!" she gasped, horrified. "What happened?"

" Nothing unusual." The trademark grin was wicked as always. "Fucking misunderstanding. Kekeke…" his shoulders shook as he cackled, but she noticed he tried to move his torso as little as possible.

She bit her lip. This wasn't the time to ask questions. "Come on, let's get you fixed up. I've got some bandages in my bag and some ointment. The kit ran out of them yesterday, and I bought some for replacement." She glanced momentarily at the medicine kit/locker to her side, noticing it had seemed to be rummaged in.

Na-ani? Why are we hiding here??" she said as snuffed the flame and grabbed her, hand, leading her to crouch by the window opposite him.

"Quit being so noisy." He hissed. "What the hell are you doing sneaking around here for? In the dim light, she saw his lip curl in distaste. "Going to meet your fucking boyfriend? Didn't know you had it in you, fucking manager…"

Her fists curled into fists and it was all she could do not to slap him, remembering he was already injured. "This is my team too, and I was going to get my notes from my locker! And there's no boyfriend!" Her face flushed crimson. "You're one to talk, hiding out here! What's going on and who did this to you?"

He looked at her worried face for an instant then turned his gaze to the window, his face intent.

"One of those fucking slaves, one Damashima. He's Yowaira Corp.'s VP. He bribed the spies I kept watch over him to keep quiet and told some nobody gang to do away with me. I hid out here afterwards. Happy now? "

She sucked in a horrified breath. She knew; she was even the one who warned Sena of the bleached-blonde's frighteningly large network of slaves, some of whom were pretty high up if the principal of Deimon was any evidence. Yet she hadn't even thought of the consequences of such power.

It was clearer to her now, and her heart skipped a beat. "So that's why you carry around all those guns to school…."

"Fucking manager, I should think it was obvious." He snapped. He stiffened a bit as he felt her shift closer to him, bringing out the medical supplies in her bag.

"Are they waiting for you outside, then?" Her auburn head was down, but her voice was tense. He grimaced as he felt the sting of alcohol onto his gash.

"Good thing it's not deep, "she continued, more to herself as she squinted at the red that marred his pale skin. "It'll be healed in three days or so if you don't strain it too much."

"Maybe, there are a few scouting the grounds." He shrugged. Seeing her eyes grow wider, he snorted derisively, his evil grin in place. "Those thugs don't even know how to hold the stuff. Amateurs. They can't even handle on of these babies." He caressed the trigger of his gun. _That fucking circus freak of a knife thrower is the only one who has potential. kekeke, another potential candidate...._ He looked down on her auburn head when she tugged at his shirt. "What, now?"

"Your shirt." Mamori gave another tug. "That wound is clean now, but I can't get this on you properly." She held up the fresh bandage she had cut.

With a grunt of impatience, he removed his shirt and threw it off to the side, making Mamori blush slightly. Although she had often seen the boys without shirts during practice, she suddenly realized she had never seen Hiruma without a shirt before, even on their trip to the beach. Her eyes widened at the dim sight in front of her.

There was the muscle definition that he honed in those years as a quarterback, deceptively unnoticeable with his slender frame; but there was something else…

"Hiruma-kun…those scars.." She looked with dismay at the lot of them on his torso—four long welts on his chest and three indentations scattered on the area below his ribs. There were also new bruises on his arms and chests that looked painful. Her heart wrung with .. was it pity?.. for the demonic leader.

"They're from fucking great fights. So?."

Fights? Her brow furrowed. That was why he said this was 'not unusual.' Tentatively, she traced the outline of each scar…knife wounds and bullet holes that had been patched up already. They seemed old, and thankfully didn't look as if they'd been very deep.

"Don't tell me I have to get plastic surgery on these," he grunted, tensing at her touch.

She only shook her head and stopped. She should've known he wouldn't say anything more about those wounds. He wasn't one to confide, especially not about things he thought were stale news. She knew from all the time spent with him that for Hiruma, it was always the future, always the coming match that was important. She bit her lip as she looked at his large bruises.

He didn't move from his place as she went away and rummaged through their small cooler. She found two remaining ice packs and returned to his side. She wrapped these in bandage cloth and applied them to his bruises.

"Watch what you're doing, fucking manager," he said, surprised. The coldness sent tingles through his sore body, but what shocked him more was the _tenderness _from her soft hands_._ He knew he should be looking for blackmail material by now for her page in his notebook, but she was being far too caring, as if _he_ was the fucking shrimp he took away from her babying. If she was looking for a replacement to baby…

"Shut up and hold still," she said, dabbing at the bruises more roughly until he stilled. _Not like the shrimp, then,_ he silently amended, a bit relieved.

"There," she said, finishing up and returning to her seat. He only grunted and continued looking out.

"Do you know how we're going to get out?" she asked, wondering how many gang members there were.

"Quit being noisy. You'll spook them with all that nagging." He said confidently. Taking that as a yes, she settled down and waited. It was already night and she could just see his outline and the faint brightness of his golden head in the room.

Hiruma…she thought of their dangerous situation and wondered why she wasn't more frightened. Here she was, sitting in front of the most feared high schooler in Deimon, a bloodthirstly gang hot on his heels. In all her life, she had never met anybody so infuriating, yet she found herself growing frightened at the thought that he might be more seriously hurt than he already was.

She did not know more about him than the Hiruma he showed the football team; hot and fierce as a demon, brilliant and cunning as a master chess player. Yet she found herself worrying for him. In spite of herself, she wanted to know more about this very complex young man who she liked to think was already her friend.

"Hiruma…kun," she said after a while, "why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly, wanting to know. "You're brilliant. Life could have been so much easier for you."

He blinked. This girl …the fucking manager. He knew since that clash about the shrimp that she was different. Come to think of it, she was the only one who asked _why_. All the others , way back before he became obsessed with football, began with "why don't you," making him want very much to blast them with long range missiles.

He thought a moment. "It's the high. Being the best is trash if you don't get all bloody. I learned that long ago," he answered simply. He could dimly see her face in the near-darkness. Then quite suddenly, an image of his pampered father, taking on no responsibility in his worthless life, appeared. He clenched his fists. He would never be like that. He would fight, however dirtily, and earn what he had a right to call his own.

She nodded. "But beating everyone else, well, like what you're doing….It seems a bit lonely in the end, I think," she said a little sadly.

His sharp profile was barely visible now." You live with it." He shrugged. "As long as you win, then you can learn to live with it."

"I suppose...ganbatte, though" She answered, quietly_. I suppose you, at least can will yourself to_.

She smiled a bit. At least in football, he wouldn't be so alone. Musashi, Kurita and the others will be there for him—whether _they_ won or lost _together_. Her heart skipped a beat. And she would be there, too, to support and care for him when she can.

They lapsed into companionable silence in the darkness. Suddenly, Hiruma jolted forward with a flash of his fangs. He motioned to her as he unlatched the window.

"Your bag. Take out what's important and gimme the fucking bag," he said.

Confused, she grabbed everything in it and gave it to him, only stopping to take out the animal tag she got from her white-haired childhood friend. Immediately she regretted the action.

"You better give it back, Hiruma-kun," she warned, frowning.

"Kekekekeke," he gave his demonic cackle, and flashed on the lighter so she saw what he was now supporting with another arm.

Mini- demon bat bombs, a dozen or so of them, each the size of his fist. She remembered the school meet where Ishimaru returned from the relay race, his body covered with soot and scared out of his wits of black balls.

"HIRUMA--!!!" Before she could finish, he dropped the bombs into the bag. With a heave, he threw the bag from the window at an angle. She heard a shout. Suddenly he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist and then they were running out the door and towards the school gate.

With his maniacal laugh, he brought out a devil bat-shaped remote and pressed the red button.

BOOM!!!

The explosion was very loud, and a gray mushroom cloud rose up as high as the school building.

AAAAAHHHH!!

She heard six voices screaming simultaneously as they were sent flying by the impact.

"YAHA!!!!" He whooped, still running, and with a flash they were out the gate and down through the river side.

" Mou! YOU!! You should've told me you were going to blow up my things before you do anything! And that was my favorite!" she scolded him loudly when they stopped beneath the bridge.

""Fucking manager, I thought you were asking how we were going to get out." He grinned evilly at her. He took out a cellphone and dialed. "Oi, fucking worthless maggots," he shouted into the phone, "get in here and fix the lawn!" And send a 'gift' to those clowns at area 12. I'm going to take care of one Damanshima Yaito.."

He glanced sideways at her as he closed the phone. "Besides, I happen to like my bag a lot," he continued speaking to her as if he didn't interrupt, gesturing to the tote bag she noticed he was carrying. "It holds all the ammo. Kekekeke!"

"AARRRGGG! You're horrible!" she screamed and stamped her feet.

He only continued cackling, beginning to make his way home. He stopped for a moment and took out a wad of paper from his bag. _The notes on the next team…._He smirked as he placed them on the pile of things that had been in her bag.

"Your handwriting is terrible, damn manager. Do it over," he barked and sauntered on.

She watched him go away, exasperated. Then she shook it off and smiled a little to herself, noticing something. At least, 'damn manager' sounded less offensive. Her grin became a smirk. …..And, she saw a shirtless Hiruma. Hmm…A devil's notebook of her own might not be so bad...

The next day, she went directly to the football team's room after her classes. Nobody else was around and she was impressed at the neat grass that now surrounded the small building. She went in and laid the stack of organized data neatly on Hiruma's corner of the table, then went to place her things into her locker.

Her brows furrowed. A package was inside, taking up most of the space. Curious, she removed the red wrapping.

A dark brown bag. Her eyebrows rose. It looked stylish, in an understated way, and was probably expensive. A small keychain was attached to the zipper. Looking closely, she saw it was a small silver handgun with a devil bat insignia on the handle. _Hiruma-kun…I….arigatou. _ Blushing a little and smiling, she took out the small stuffed toy keychain from her pocket and attached it beside the handgun.

She didn't notice Hiruma at the doorway, a small grin on his face as he closed the door.

Side notes:

Thanks to all those who review! I really appreciate it. BTW, I forgot to say, this fic takes place before the Hakushou dinosaurs game & after the death march. Take your pick which opponent it was. I just noticed Hiruma isn't shown shirtless, except for his back in the manga, when Mamori was fixing his arm. Kekeke. The line about his father is just a guess.


End file.
